There Was This
by Telperion
Summary: It was important to all of them. George/Mitchell


The house has a dilapidated air, as if it hasn't been a _home_ in quite some time. Which, if the rumours they've heard are true, is very probably the case.

And it's pink on the outside, a fact that George doesn't think is going to do his street cred any good at all. Not that he ever had any to start with.

Mitchell, of course, has so much street cred that not even living in a pink house can damage it. Even though he doesn't even appear to have noticed that he'll be living in the residential equivalent of a marshmallow.

But despite all this, despite the neglect and the pink and the rumours, to George the house feels welcoming. To _him_ it feels like home.

* * *

He's never needed to run and hide before, and he's not precisely sure why he's doing it now. Mitchell doesn't know what it is about this newly-formed werewolf that would appear to be his complete opposite that's made him give up everything he knows, the lifestyle he's followed for so long.

He wasn't lying to the others when he said he had no love for lycos. But then again, he's never had any particular hatred for them either, and this quite probably makes him an oddity amongst his kind.

What he told them to make them stop hurting George was true as well. A perfectly plausible sequence of cause and effect that would draw unwanted attention.

Only while _they_ might have believed it, Herrick wouldn't have. He would have seen what was really going on.

Mitchell wonders if he should have asked the other vampire to enlighten him before leaving, because he sure as hell doesn't have a clue.

But now he's here. Running and hiding. And strangely enough, he doesn't really mind.

* * *

George really does scream like a girl when he's startled. And there aren't many things more startling that having a ghost appear out of thin air right in front of you and introduce herself.

It appears the rumours are true.

Doubled over in laughter, Mitchell can do nothing more than wave a negative hand at the ghost's - _Annie's_ – cheery offer of a cup of tea. George is making strangled sounds of shock, and his opening and closing mouth makes him look like nothing so much as a dying goldfish. But when Annie tries to touch him he jerks away, and Mitchell stops laughing suddenly.

"So this would be your house?"

Annie nods, looking a little hurt by George's reaction. George himself is looking at Mitchell like he's wondering where his friend's marbles have gone.

"I guess this would explain where all the teabags go, then…"

* * *

It takes George a while to get used to Annie. Mitchell's seen more strange and unsettling things than he'd care to remember in his century of existence, so one fairly benign ghost doesn't bother him in the slightest.

George, however, has been a werewolf for less than a year. Twelve months ago he didn't even know such things really _existed_, let alone turn into one at every full moon. And vampires and ghosts were just fireside tales and urban legends.

But despite his fear and confusion, he has strength. Plenty of people would be looking for a way out of his situation by now – a _permanent_ way out – but George is determined. Determined that he can still have some kind of life.

Mitchell sometimes wonders if this is what made him go with George. If that strength attracted him. It might be difficult to believe but as a vampire it's hard to be strong sometimes. The siren call of the blood is so much more powerful than any one individual. It traps you, keeps you. Suffocates you.

Mitchell hadn't realised at the time that he was looking for a way out, but now he thinks that George might just have provided it.

* * *

Annie watches them both. They gravitate towards each other – they can't seem to help it. And it's not because of what they are – from what Mitchell's said, vampires and werewolves aren't mortal enemies, but they're pretty close.

No, it's because of _who_ they are. They want to protect each other, to make each other better. They're as different as night and day, but it appears that opposites really do attract.

It should make her feel excluded, but it doesn't. She chose these two to share her home because she knew they'd understand. They understand her as they understand each other.

But Mitchell and George's connection was forged before she ever came on the scene, and she doesn't begrudge it. They need each other, and she needs them.

* * *

When it happens, George thinks he could have pretended to be surprised. He doesn't, but he could have.

He might come across as the naïve innocent, the one who doesn't see the punch coming until it hits him in the face, but that's not who he is really. Optimistic, yes. Naïve, no. Becoming a creature of the night is a _really_ fast way to lose one's innocence, after all.

He thinks Mitchell is surprised, though, by this lack of surprise. Suddenly Mitchell is the one who's uncertain, the one who's apologising, pulling away until George drags him back, and shows him exactly what this supposedly naïve and innocent werewolf can do.

* * *

"There was this."

The words are almost a plea, a desperate attempt to make him stay.

George can see that Mitchell doesn't understand, that Annie hates him in this moment, and he wishes he could tell them what is really happening.

But then they wouldn't let him go. He has no doubt that between them they could make him stay, if the thought ever crossed their minds. He is no match for a vampire and poltergeist, even in his moon-heightened state.

So he lets Annie think he's running away. And he lets Mitchell think he's leaving everything they have.

A quick look around, taking in this place he's called home. Even the pink isn't so bad now. It's just pink, rather than _pink_. His eyes pass over Annie, who doesn't look back, and settle on Mitchell.

_There was this._ The thought is a happy one.

* * *

Afterwards, they sit. They drink tea, and eat cereal.

George who is no longer 'me' and 'it', but just George.

Annie who knows she hasn't missed anything by not opening that door.

And Mitchell, who is only just starting to realise what he has.

He has them. He has Annie, and he has George. Friends who would give up everything for him.

He reaches out and takes Annie's hand, feeling the cool, not-quite-there skin against his own. She smiles, and in that moment she is luminous.

He doesn't touch George. He doesn't need to. Later is enough time for that. For now a look is all they need. It says everything their mouths don't.

For a moment they are still, then Mitchell speaks.

"There is this."


End file.
